


counting stars

by hiensou



Category: Free!
Genre: Blowjobs, Fluff, M/M, it's basically just porn but i tried to make it sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 01:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2132532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiensou/pseuds/hiensou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto will smile with his eyes more than his lips, touch Haruka's cheek with his wide palm and breathe “<i>Haru,</i>” in a way that makes the shorter male shiver and feel like breaking in half. And Haruka will look away, grab a handful of Makoto's shirt and murmur the brunet's name in response, as if it makes an actual conversation that conveys anything. Which it doesn't really. They're usually better with gesture than words – or at least Haruka is – and Makoto will take it to mind and adapt to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	counting stars

It isn't unusual for Haruka to find his Makoto with a smile upon his face. It's a nearly constant occurrence, actually, and he's surprised the guy isn't wearing his muscles out. Nevertheless, it means a lot. The smiling, that is. Haruka doesn't always acknowledge the slight curve upwards of Makoto's lips, but when things do come around and he's knocked right in the face with the realisation that he couldn't live without it, it causes rolling shivers and keen twists in his gut and he wants to wipe that smirk right off of Makoto's face because it's beautiful, but it's hard to handle.

He sometimes does. He'll take matters into his hands – as well as Makoto's face – and kiss the grin away. There are many different kinds though, mind you, and some Haruka thinks are better left alone.

He has tried to count them but it's as impossible as counting stars. He thinks he's got it but then he realises there's another version of smile number three, or that number four has been replaced by another. Silly, he labels himself, but it's a way of passing time, he supposes. It is also a way to read Makoto and it makes them a bit more equal, because the latter has always seemed to be able to know what Haruka is thinking at any given time. It's unsettling sometimes; intruding on his personal space, but now they both know when the other is lying or is playing mischievous, which makes it even.

Makoto will smile in certain ways at his friends, family and Haruka. Sometimes he looks at Nagisa or Rei and he's being polite albeit contrived – however not the same way as with a stranger or a teacher – and other times he'll look at them with genuine glee or a parent's gentle amiability.

But he'll smile at Ren and Ran and his own parents in a way that's sometimes more causal because they're family and he's comfortable, and sometimes in such a forced way Haruka wants to pull at his cheeks and scold him. He's got an obligation at home; the big brother figure. It isn't something Haruka can chase away because everyone serves their own respective purpose in a household, but he doesn't like seeing burdens on Makoto's shoulders.

Although the guy would never let himself think of his family as a burden.

There's obligation as a swim team captain, too, of course. However, that one isn't as much in the smile. He has to be encouraging, but it's mostly sincere, because Makoto has a knack for setting ambition in others. He has to be understanding as well, but once again, it isn't something he has to force.

Haruka usually likes to think that when it's just the two of them, there isn't any obligation at all. Makoto has a few smiles reserved for him only, and they're so warm and pure that they always wipe any apprehension and worry from Haruka as if he were a wind shield.

Makoto will smile with his eyes more than his lips, touch Haruka's cheek with his wide palm and breathe “ _Haru_ ,” in a way that makes the shorter male shiver and feel like breaking in half. And Haruka will look away, grab a handful of Makoto's shirt and murmur the brunet's name in response, as if it makes an actual conversation that conveys anything. Which it doesn't really. They're usually better with gesture than words – or at least Haruka is – and Makoto will take it to mind and adapt to it.

Another one from his repertoire is one that is so thoroughly lust that it makes Haruka's insides burst. This one is in the gaze a lot as well; darkened, half-lidded, olive eyes that tells the other about Makoto's utmost desire at that very moment. How Haruka decides to respond to that alternates between biting his lip in a bashful façade and returning the look with one of his own.

His very favourite must be the one that Makoto probably doesn't even know he has. One that Haruka believes is the one Makoto uses for his _own_ sake. It sometimes annoys Haruka how his lover and best friend is always a hundred percent _giving_ , never taking for himself or putting his own want before anyone else's. Which is why, among the smiles he has unconsciously designed for the sake of others, there's the one that will curl his lips when no one is looking, when it's his own thoughts or reactions triggering it and he doesn't have to fit it according to situation or receiver. When he smiles to himself like that, Haruka falls in love over and over again, and it might be the real reason he doesn't always acknowledge Makoto's constant smiling, because if he did it would make him emotionally exhausted.

Then again, perhaps he's just lying to himself. Maybe he does acknowledge Makoto's expressions every time it changes, little as it may be.

He doesn't dwell on it, because he feels ridiculous enough as it is.

Meanwhile, Makoto has a lot to say about the rare smiles Haruka saves for special occasions, because his are certainly all the more uncommon, but Makoto loves them all the same.

The one he's currently faced with – a mischievous, brazen smirk parting for Haruka's tongue to dart out and wet his own lips – sends Makoto's blood careening through his body. He swallows audibly, allowing himself to be pushed back against the wall that Haru's bed rests against, and marvels at the knowledge that he is most probably the only person in the entire world to have ever seen this particular pull of Haruka's lips. The latter does in fact keep from wasting his smiles, but when they're alone, Makoto likes to think he doesn't hold back even a little bit. The amounts of happy expressions, lustful and teasing expressions, and even that one where Haru slumps forward with eyes squeezed shut and muscles tensing as he laughs uncontrollably; they all multiply tenfold, and every single time they show, Makoto can feel his heart swelling like a balloon. Sometimes he thinks it'd float away if it weren't for the expanse of his chest confining it.

Haruka's lips hide from sight as they collide with Makoto's own, eliciting a shameless moan from the brunet pressed against the pillows on the bed. Haruka's bottom lip falls in between Makoto's both and he nibbles gently before biting down somewhat harder, a faint taste of iron invading his senses along with the encouraging sounds that Haruka breathes into his mouth. He prods the slightly abused area gingerly with his tongue as a sheepish afterthought, and Haru tilts his head to deepen their tongue-tying even more.

Makoto can't keep his hands off of him – _when can he ever?_ – and lets them skim across the other boy's shoulders, following his spine to the small of Haru's back where his touch makes Haruka buck his hips involuntarily, and then he finds himself with two handfuls of the other male's behind. He squeezes, evoking something akin to a _whimper_ from Haruka, and continues to massage his buttocks over his trousers. He loves Haru's ass; he loves every part of Haru's body, honestly. It would be hard for him to choose a favourite, but right now – as he slips his long fingers beneath the hem of the other's pants – he's quite certain that his behind, as well as the gently swollen lips moving against his own, are high on the list. Possibly right beneath Haruka's _smile_ , which he suddenly decides is the invincible victor, after all.

He sighs blissfully as Haruka relocates his kisses to the area right beneath Makoto's left ear, sucking shamelessly and gracing the skin with his teeth. Makoto feels overcome with wanton and adoration and doesn't realise he is biting his tongue until the indistinct iron taste makes a reappearance.

“ _Haru_ ,” he murmurs into the air, loving the keen noises that leave his partner's mouth as Makoto moves a hand to massage at his crotch, “can I suck you off?”

The words alone seem to make the raven-haired boy shiver against him, and he nods almost bashfully against the crook of Makoto's neck.

“Good,” he chuckles quietly, “I'm glad.”

For what, he's not sure, but his response makes Haruka look up at him with tilted eyebrows and a smile that says _you're ridiculous_ in that oddly endearing way that Haruka has. He smiles back, excitement swirling in his gut as he pushes Haruka back on the bed so that he is straddling him. Makoto leans down, peppering his throat with kisses and feeling the way it bobs up and down as Haru swallows somewhat nervously.

Haruka knows that after all the countless times Makoto has done this to him, he should probably not be so silently hysteric from the mere notion of it. However, as soon as Makoto sits straight, tall over Haruka, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes and a vague pull at one of the corners of his mouth, the anticipation coils around the Haru's body and pools at the pit of his stomach. Blood and warmth rushes south as Makoto rocks his hips once, twice, in a thrillingly experimental way, and Haruka cranes his neck backwards in a quiet gasp.

Makoto keeps up the rolling of his lower body against the other boy's as he unbuttons Haruka's shirt at a pace so slow it is almost hellish. Eventually Haruka's abdomen is entirely naked, and Makoto leans down to press his mouth against his chest. Haruka can't help the jerky movements of his hips, desperately trying to keep the same rhythm as Makoto, but failing miserably. It's still a little embarrassing, being laid out bare and spoiled this way, but he loves it nonetheless.

The friction disappears from his crotch and a dismayed noise escapes him, luring another grin from Makoto, this one directed at the navel he is currently dipping his tongue into. He kisses downwards, _downwards_ , body moving further away from Haruka's so that he can easily open the latter's fly and pull his pants off of him. They pool around his ankles and Makoto struggles momentarily to completely remove them, but once he's done it he tosses them to the floor beneath the bed. He is still wearing his underwear, though, and Makoto presses his mouth square to the fabric, breathing out hot air against the length of Haruka's dick. Haru tenses where he lies, breathing in sharply and gripping for Makoto's hand as he does it again and again and again, wetting the garment with his tongue. Haruka thinks for a moment he can come just from this, which is when Makoto stops as if reading his mind and thinking _well, that won't do, will it?_

He pats Haruka's thigh, indicating he lifts his lower body so that Makoto can slip the boxers off of him and Haruka does as he's silently ordered, soon starkly naked underneath the brunet's kind but hungry eyes.

The taller male lets out an absent-minded sigh as he caresses up and down Haru's thighs and gazes at him intently. Haruka feels uneasy with his erection fully visible to Makoto who is letting his stare wander up and down Haruka's body before locking with the blues of Haruka's own, and Makoto says to him, “You're so beautiful, Haru.”

It takes all his willpower not to cover his face with his hands like some shy little virgin – because he is doubtlessly anything _but_ – and instead he settles for averting his eyes and blocking out the sensation of his face warming up considerably. Suddenly he has other things to think about though, as a hand wraps around his length and pulls at it with a grip tight enough for Haru's body to twitch but soft enough for it to leave him hoping for more. Makoto only lets his hand pump the shaft a few times before leaning his head down, licking the tip like some kind of prelude, and then proceeding to wrap his lips around the tip entirely.

“ _Mmm_ ,” Haruka bites at his bottom lip, gripping the sheets with lax force as Makoto lets go of his hand to hold Haru's dick with one and keep his hips down with the other.

Makoto takes in as much as he can, which isn't all of Haruka's length but still a lot more than Haru himself manages when the roles are reversed; Makoto's mouth is wider, possibly from having Haruka's cock inside of it all the time, the raven-haired boy muses to himself. He usually makes up for the lack of width to his mouth by using other helpful tactics. A lot of tongue-trailing, humming or moaning, and using his hands on other sensitive parts of Makoto's body – chest, balls, behind – and it usually does the trick. He'll be exploring and switching techniques often throughout the act. When it's the other way around though, and they're like this, Makoto likes taking his time with drawn-out movements that will drive Haruka insane for release, and sometimes Makoto will even leave him right on the edge and stop there (momentarily; he's way too nice to not finish what he started, in the end.)

Makoto sucks hard at the tip before starting to bob his head up and down at a languid pace, concentrated little sounds leaving his throat as he goes. Haruka is already breathing heavily, wanting to thrust into Makoto's mouth but reasoning with himself that making his boyfriend gag and cough all over his dick probably isn't the best idea. As some sort of compensation he licks his lips greedily and allows a thick moan to tumble out. He _knows_ , more than anything, that Makoto is all but infatuated with the noises he makes during sex, and the less he holds back the more his lover will offer him in return. This theory is quickly confirmed as Makoto groans around Haru's dick; a pleasant sensation that burns into his memory instantly. In the back of his mind, he stores every little detail of experiencing Makoto sucking him off for possible later use. When he's alone, in need of physical satisfaction, Makoto is what he thinks about. Always. Makoto trapping him against a wall, Makoto boldly whispering obscenities in the locker room, Makoto touching his warm skin and kissing him wildly. Makoto inside him, around him, pleasing him, being pleased _by_ him.

He's better than any porn magazine Haruka could ever store underneath his bed, honestly.

Makoto peers up at him as he hollows his cheeks and Haruka grunts, his eyes a bit watery. He concentrates on the way Makoto's lips and fingers move in unison up and down him, and reaches a hand out to card through his rather thick hair, then down to cup his cheek lovingly, and up again to get a firm grip of those brown locks.

“Ah, _ahh_... Ma – Makoto,” he breathes out as Makoto's hand leaves his side to fondle his balls, and the tingling that shoots throughout Haruka's entire body tells him that today's session will be rather short, as he is already nearing his peak.

Makoto releases his dick with a wet _pop_ and says, “You want to go quickly today, or do I get to turn you into a complete mess?” before kissing the slit sweetly. Makoto has such different sides to him, Haruka thinks, because there's a definite difference between the Makoto that absolutely _loves_ making Haruka a whimpering, begging, drooling disarray, and the Makoto that hides behind him, scared of the darkness of their old, abandoned swim club.

Haruka fails to catch himself before a quiet whine falls from his lips, and he clamps his mouth shut and shakes his head. “Quickly, _please_ ,” he says then, and there's a hunger in Makoto's brilliantly green orbs and a sly twinkle in his smile, “I want to do you next.”

“ _Haru_ ,” he all but moans at that reply, heaving himself up to kiss the tip of his nose almost as a small sign of gratitude. Before he can return to the task at hand, though, Haruka grabs him by the front of his shirt ( _unfair_ , he thinks, how Makoto still gets to be dressed) and connects them by the lips for a minute or two. He catches Makoto's tongue in his mouth and sucks on it, kindling raspy moans that begin in the deep of his throat and fall against Haruka.

As soon as his lips are back at his flushed erection, Haru cries out for him. “Mako... _to_...!” and reclaims his clasp of Makoto's hair. “Oh _god_ , oh... _fuck._ ”

His head swims with rapture, and he can no longer keep from thrusting into the warmth of the other's mouth, though his movements are more haphazard, jerky twitches than actual thrusts. He pleads for Makoto to suck harder, go faster, faster, _faster_ , and he raises his lower body into the air and stays that way, mouth wide open and eyebrows pinched together.

Makoto continues to lick and suckle his leaking length, pumping avidly with one hand and reaching the other to Haruka's chest where he pinches a nipple and rolls his fingertips over it. Haruka feels like crying from senseless bliss, body scorching hot and he is so, so _close_ he is basically seeing stars.

“ _Fuck_ , ah... Makoto–” he starts, opening his eyes and meeting Makoto's gaze as the latter has the _nerve_ to smile around his dick, _actually grin right at him_ from where he's currently at, and it tips Haru over the edge and he climaxes, gasping loudly and coming undone in between Makoto's lips without a real warning. He cries out the other boy's name over and over again, enraptured by pulsating electricity and billows of quaking pleasure. Haruka's skin prickles and his head feels as if fleetingly intoxicated.

Makoto swallows as much as he can, and Haruka thinks in between his sharp intakes of air and his whiny moans that it's kind of gross, but he always does so he lets it slide without a comment. Makoto sits up eventually, and Haruka detects that he still has a little come left at the corner of his mouth, so he reaches out a somewhat shaky arm to wipe it away with his thumb. The brunet flops down to lie beside him, brushing sweaty strands of hair from Haruka's forehead. The latter closes his eyes, focusing on regaining his breath back to normal when Makoto speaks quietly,

“You're so incredibly beautiful,” he says once more, and despite how spent he is, Haruka feels heat rising in his cheeks just as intensely as before. He glances at Makoto, who is still wearing the same smirk from moments ago, only now his eyes are glazed with deep affection rather than cheeky desire. Haruka can feel his heart stutter in his chest, and he wants to tell him _You're beautiful too, when you look at me with all the devotion in the world and when you're absent-minded, caught up in your own thoughts, and when you're sad, thinking no one sees the way your beam falters, and when you sleep, when you read, when you cry your eyes out at sappy, American chick flicks and I love you, I love you I love you I love you–_

“Wipe that grin off your face,” Haruka mutters instead, pressing a hand that stifles Makoto's laugh against the brunet's cheek as if forcefully offering to do it for him. Haru thinks that maybe some day he'll be able to speak the words Makoto deserves to hear, but until then, hopefully the boy can decode them from the peaceful expression of content upon Haruka's features.

 

 


End file.
